Long After
by willowwood
Summary: There's a tragic accident, during Zach's first driving lesson.


**Title:** Long After  
**Author:** willowwood  
**Character(s)/Pairing:** Angela Montenegro/Jack Hodgins  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Words:** 1,496  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned this show, do you honestly think I'd kill off one of my all time favourite characters?  
**Warnings: **Slightly AU, and contains character death.  
**Authors Notes: **Fic's are inspired by many things, this one just happens to be inspired by a dream that my good friend of mine had.  
**Summary:** There's a tragic accident, during Zach's first driving lesson. 

Long After

They were labelling it as a _'tragic freak accident' _but the only thing that Jack could determine as being _'freak'_ about it all was that the only time she ever appeared on television, was in a low-quality, three-year-old photograph of all of them together - probably taken at some banquet he'd failed to weasel his way out of - Whilst some uptight prissy nosed CNN anchor woman told the world about how she'd died.

A world that'd never seen her smile. A world that had never looked into her eyes. A world that hadn't even been interested in the fact that she was the daughter of some aging rock star that she hardly ever saw. A world who because of some 'tragic freak accident' would never bare witness to her opening her own art gallery, would never have the chance of owning a piece of her amazing work.

A world that shouldn't be _pretending _to mourn her death.

"Jack, there's been an accident"

"What? Don't tell me Zach's run the car off the road? Only he could be so paranoid about having an accident, to cause himself to actually have one" He'd joked "Angela's gonna kill him if he's wrecked her car, where are they?"

"At the hospital" If her words alone hadn't hinted at the seriousness of the accident then the quiver in her voice was enough to have him hanging up the phone and charging towards the door - in the five years he'd known Dr Brennan, he'd never seen her cry, and he didn't then. By the time he'd reached the hospital - fast enough to cause his own accident and not caring about all of the near misses he actually had - her pink tinged cheeks are dry, eyes more vacant than he's ever seen them before and her hands clasped firmly between both of Booths.

And that's enough, that first scene stowed away in the corner of the waiting room, is enough to tell him everything he needs to know. He doesn't even need to hear the well practised words, from the surgeon whose scrubs are covered in the faintest hint of blood that he hopes they don't notice, and whose voice is softer and calmer than Jack believes it ought to be.

He can't remember what's actually happened, despite the fact he's heard it be explained three times by now, all he knows for certain is that he's standing in the hospital waiting room, anger and complete and utter hopelessness building up inside of him. He doesn't even know why he's still standing there, they've already told him that she's dead and he's thought about leaving, thought about drowning himself in the cabinet full of single malt scotch that is father always used to insist was fully stocked, and yet he doesn't.

He's frozen.

The others Booth, Brennan, and Cam are all watching him like he's a volcano about to erupt - apparently more aware of the intensity of his feeling for her, than even he was - and yet when he does finally blow, he doubts it's the way any of them anticipated, hell it's not even the way he anticipated it.

One minute the guy he's always thought of as his best friend is walking towards him - still wearing the same outfit he'd had on that morning _'tight-legged trousers and sensible shoes'_, his right arm wrapped up against his chest in a blue cast and white sling - and the next minute Jack's charging towards the wall, blocking Zach between that and himself, both hands wrapped tightly around the grad-students throat, unperturbed by the height difference between the two of them.

"You knew" he screams his voice cracking, their faces only inches apart "You've always known! Always brought it up! So why did you do it? Why?" But Zach doesn't reply, doesn't speak, can't speak, his oxygen levels quickly dilapidating beneath the entomologists tight grip.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" He doesn't care that the others are now surrounding them, that everybody in the waiting room is staring there way. He doesn't care that is best friend is looking at him, with wide brown frightened eyes, or that he isn't even bothering to fight him back.

He finally comes to his senses when two large hands grab hold of his shoulders, pinching two large chunks of skin in the process. Maybe it's the pain that shocks him into letting go, maybe it's something else entirely, but as he releases his hold, the younger man is suddenly gasping for breath, oblivious to the red marks that now adorn his neck, accompanying the cuts and bruises that are already spread across his pale face.

Brennan and Cam are still stood watching, both looking as though they want to comfort Zach, but neither entirely sure of what to do. Booth's hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, but they're not doing anything. Not forcing him to move away, not forcing him to take a seat. Just holding him, until eventually, eventually his shoulders begin to heave uncontrollably, wracked with sobs that Jack no longer has the will to control. Now Booth is moving, tuning him around and pulling him into a hug that Jack doesn't have the energy to fight.

His wails and sobs are muffled by the FBI agent's larger frame, as the other man whispers "It's all right Hodgins there's nothing he could do. He couldn't have known" and no matter how much he doesn't want to believe him, no matter how much he wants somebody to blame, he knows he's telling the truth.

They couldn't have known, he couldn't have known. The kid couldn't even drive a car for Christ's sake that was why all of this had started in the first place. The whole point of the whole god-damn day.

It had been her idea. She'd offered to give him lessons so that he wouldn't have to pester Jack every time he'd wanted to go somewhere, give him some semblance of a normal life, at least a small taste of freedom. She'd also added that it'd give Jack his life back, and he wouldn't have to worry if Zach was alright, and how he'd managed to get home. At the time Jack had joked that it was just her way of making sure he'd be free for that date, she'd been planning for the two of them, but she'd simply slapped him on the shoulder and with a roll of her eyes walked away.

For a long time the grad student was dubious about the offer, reeling off facts and figures about contractual engineering and weakest impact zones of all the top named cars whenever the topic had been brought up, but eventually when Jack started talking about road trips and helping him pay towards a car, he actually began to warm to all the possibilities driving had to offer.

It was during his first lesson; his first day that he hadn't uttered a single word about safety or death, and Jack had dropped him off outside her apartment, wishing them both good luck before driving away. Knowing he'd never have the patience to do it himself as he'd pulled up to the traffic lights at the bottom of her street as he's watched them climb into the car, that it had happened.

They couldn't have known that the breaks had been tampered with, couldn't have known that the passenger side seat belt had been loosened so that the slightest forceful impact would cause it to come undone easily, allowing anybody who was sitting there to go head first through the windshield. Couldn't have known that the gang responsible for their most recent case had been watching there every move for the past week, where they lived, where they ate, where and how they travelled - How, for the past seven days Angela had been picking Brennan up on her way into the Jeffersonian whilst the other woman's car was in the shop getting repairs.

All they did know was that they were labelling it as a tragic freak accident, a label that wouldn't be disputed for another 3 years, long after he'd stood at her funeral in a pale blue shirt and cream cords - according to Brennan at one of the endless funerals they'd attended together, she'd said at hers she wouldn't want people to wear black, _black was depressing_.

Long after he'd continuously threw up at her wake, dry heaving even when there was nothing left of the breakfast and previous night's supper he'd barely touched.

Long after the only sensible thing to do the day Brennan had told him her headstone was being placed, was drink himself into a coma.

Long after the nightmares.

Long after he'd finally found himself sober enough to place the single white rose at her grave side, almost 12 months to the day.

Long after the guy who was responsible was killed in a drive-by shooting.

**The End**


End file.
